The Good Samaritan
Inside the hospital ICU I sit next to a stranger, a “John Doe.” He is sleeping, warm, out of the rain. The sliding door to the ICU room slowly opens, and I see a figure of a man I have only read about: the good Samaritan.
* * *
I fumble to open the umbrella as if it doesn’t want to leave the warm comfort of home and enter the cold, ruthless climate. I walk to the hospital. Last week a friend in church asked me why I choose to write about hopeless situations. I was surprised, wondering what his world must look like. I didn’t know what to say. As it goes, I kept coming up with responses I wish …